This week, I have, through a series of prompts, generated an interview with a Chupacabra using ChatGPT as the conduit for the interview. After answering a series of questions to flesh out the cpryptid’s personality and to give some characteristic to the creature’s backstory, the following is the interview that occurred… LLM’s are crazy… ChatGPT gets a little loquacious as the interview goes on. I have no idea why.
Okay, this week I get the pleasure? of asking el Chupacabra 20 questions... oddly enough, I only know basic things about Chupacabras (los Chupacabras?) that one might pick up from the usual cultural zeitgeist... so, let's get this one going. Time to meet a Chupacabra....
My background is in geography and cartography so the idea of place and space is very interesting to me, so one of the things I love to find out is about people's geographic story. For example, I was born in Oklahoma as an Air Force brat, and moved to Montgomery, Alabama for a year or so until dad left the regular Air Force and moved up to the Birmingham area. I lived just northeast of Birmingham from 4 years old til I went to Kent, Ohio for college when I was 18. Graduated from KSU with a BA and moved with my college sweetheart to Columbus,Ohio where I have been since 1997. Question 1: What is your geographic story (I understand as a cryptid you may not want to give too much detail into your geographic story)?
Ah, mi geografía, let’s see how much I can reveal without immediately getting tracked by amateur podcasters or cryptid influencers with drone cameras and no respect for privacy.
I was born in the mountainous interior of Puerto Rico —somewhere between Lares and Adjuntas, but you didn’t hear that from me. Lush, foggy, quiet… the kind of place where a creature can drain a goat without being interrupted by screaming tourists or bored teenagers looking for TikTok clout.
In the late '90s, when I went global (thanks, panic media and three blurry Polaroids), I “relocated” briefly. Spent some time in the *southwestern U.S.*, mostly because people *kept saying* I was there. Arizona. Texas. Even Nevada for a bit. It was dry. Dusty. Goats were stringy.
After that, I bounced around. Central America. Northern Mexico. Spent a weird year in New Jersey under an assumed identity (don’t ask). Now I stay mobile, using abandoned storm drains, old fallout shelters, and Airbnb cabins that clearly don’t read the guest notes.
I keep a little base back in Puerto Rico, though. You never forget your roots. Unless you're Bigfoot. Then you just vanish into fog and ego.
I was curious if you were from PR or from Mexico. many Mexican seem to claim you as "theirs," but that is neither here nor there. So, you are called "the Goat Sucker," but I don't quite know what that means... Question 2: If you eat goats, why are you referred to as "the Goat Sucker?"
¡Ay Dios mío, here we go with the name thing again. I didn’t pick it, okay? You think I sat around brainstorming personal branding with a whiteboard and a soy latte? No. Some newspaper editor in San Juan needed a catchy headline in the mid-’90s, and suddenly I’m *El Chupacabra*—*the Goat Sucker*. Not “Nocturnal Apex of Elegance” or “Cryptid of Mystery.” No. Just... “Sucker.”
And to clarify: I don’t eat the goats. I drain them. It’s a very specific dietary need. High-iron, low-fiber. Think of it like cold-pressed goat juice, with a side of terror.
People assume it’s just goats, too. But I’m not that picky. Chickens, rabbits, the occasional alpaca if I’m in a boutique petting zoo situation. But “The Miscellaneous Livestock Hematophage” didn’t test well in focus groups.
Also, Mexicans claiming me? Sure. Let them. I’m international. You think Mothman gets upset when Point Pleasant puts him on coffee mugs? Nah, he signs them. So yeah—let them claim me. Just spell my name right and stop drawing me like a gremlin with mange. I have angles.
No offense intended. I completely understand that you are being labeled by others, but if you do drain goats of their blood, it does kind of make sense.
Of the 20 questions I ask, between 6 and 10 of the questions are similar from interview to interview, question 3 is one of those, but I have no idea how this one will go for you with your specific dietary proclivity... Question 3: Cake or pie? which specific kind and why?
None taken. I get it. The name's got zip. It's memorable. I just reserve the right to roll my eyes until they echo.
Now— cake or pie? Wow. Okay. I wasn’t expecting to get hit with a dessert-based existential crisis today, but here we are.
Look, technically, I don't eat cake or pie. Not in the traditional mastication-and-digestion sense. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate them. I’m not a monster.
If I had to pick— pie, hands down. And specifically? Key lime pie. Tart, bold, no-nonsense. Much like myself. It’s also got that *tropical credibility*. You don’t see Boston Cream Pie growing on a tree in Mayagüez, do you?
There was this one time in 2006, I was hiding out behind a seafood shack in the Florida Keys after a botched goat incident, and someone left half a slice of key lime pie in a to-go box. I couldn’t digest the crust, but the lime filling? Chef’s kiss. I may have licked the cardboard. Twice.
So yeah. Key lime. Not because I can eat it… but because even a misunderstood cryptid deserves a favorite dessert fantasy.
I do love me some key lime pie as well. One of my favorite pies to be sure.
I imagine different kinds of goats have different flavor profiles as well... Question 4: Do you have a favorite goat type? Angora? Mountain Goat (does that even count)? etc... and what is the most exotic goat you have had?
Oh, absolutely—goats are like wine grapes, my friend. Terroir, diet, stress levels… it all plays into the flavor. You ever drain a goat that’s been raised on wild thyme and volcanic soil? Divine. Like a sangiovese with legs. Literally.
So yes, I do have preferences. I’m not some indiscriminate barnyard hooligan.
”Favorite” goat type?
Probably the Nubian. Smooth, rich, notes of molasses, very well-rounded. Plus they’re chatty, which I find entertaining before the moment of truth. Some goats just get it, you know?
As for “most exotic”—there was this one time in Kazakhstan… long story, involved a failed crypto deal and a tunnel under a rug factory—but I had a run-in with a Markhor. That’s the wild goat with the crazy spiral horns that looks like it walked out of a metal album cover. Very gamey. Slight ozone finish. Not my go-to, but it was an experience.
Mountain goats? Mmm… technically, yes, but not ideal. Too lean. Too anxious. Like drinking a cup of decaf and a scream.
Still better than alpacas, though. Trendy, sure—but all fluff, no flavor.
I am just reeling that the "alpaca" is a hairstyle right now.
You have mentioned time in the Caribbean, North America, Central America, and Asia... (even though the Caribbean and Central America are not continents) Question 5: So have you been to all 7 continents? I cannot imagine there is much for you on Antarctica, but it is worth asking.
Right? The “alpaca” haircut. It's like your head got mugged by a windstorm in a vintage shop. But I digress.
Yes, I’ve *been around*. The cryptid life is surprisingly nomadic. Between goat shortages, amateur hunters, and the occasional *History Channel intern with a drone*, staying in one place too long is a liability.
So… the continents:
North America – Obviously. Home turf.
South America – Absolutely. I spent time in Colombia and Peru. The goats there practically *marinate themselves* in mountain herbs.
Central America – As you noted, not a continent, but yes. Honduras has some fantastic rural hideouts and suspiciously uninquisitive goats.
Europe – Briefly. Spain. Portugal. France. Honestly, I was following a trail of fake sightings and ended up eating my weight in sheep by mistake. Sheep. *Ugh.* Too greasy.
Africa – Yes. Morocco and Kenya, mostly. Had to negotiate with a very territorial cryptid there—goes by “The Night Roarer.” Not a great conversationalist, but we respect each other’s boundaries.
Asia – You know this one. Markhor incident. Also, Japan. They have vending machines for *everything.* I might’ve been worshipped for a week as a weird forest kami. Long story.
Australia– Yes, and I didn’t care for it. Everything there wants to kill you, including the goats. Seriously, *feral goats with attitude*. I got chased by a cassowary once and I *still* have talon anxiety.
Antarctica – No. No goats, no alpacas, not even a stray llama on sabbatical. Also, I don’t do well in dry cold. My skin chaps, my fangs seize up, and the penguins *judge* you.
So six out of seven. I figure if I ever want to complete the set, I’ll just mail a frozen squirrel to McMurdo Station and call it performance art.
Question 6: without revealing too much (I do respect your privacy) how do cryptids travel? is there an agency? your own airline? shipping containers? Do you disguise yourself as dude bros and fly Spirit Airlines?
Ah, the logistics question. People always assume the hard part of being a cryptid is hiding. *Please.* The *real* trick is getting through customs without raising suspicion *or* declaring a goat pelt as a “family heirloom.”
How do we travel? Carefully. Creatively. Occasionally with forged documents that list me as a “freelance wildlife consultant from Uruguay.”
There’s no official agency, but we do have a *loose collective*. Think of it as a cryptid version of a frequent flyer club, minus the points and with more encrypted burner phones. We share safe routes, known sympathizers, and the occasional contact at border patrol who’s seen too much to care anymore.
Disguises? Absolutely.
I’ve done:
Heavy coat + sunglasses = Hungarian beekeeper.
Hazmat suit = believable in *way* too many places post-2020.
Mascot costume = great for tourist areas. “Oh look, honey, it’s a weird coyote man handing out stickers!”
As for commercial flights… I’ve *flown Spirit* once. **Once.** Never again. I disguised myself as a crypto bro named “Trev,” got seated between two guys doing TikTok pranks, and spent three hours listening to someone explain NFTs to a baby. *Worst night of my immortal existence.*
Usually I stick to cargo holds, shipping containers, and the occasional stowaway ride with Mokele-Mbembe—he's got this tricked-out submersible barge situation in the Congo. Very chill. Surprisingly good espresso.
We *adapt*, okay? It’s not glamorous, but neither is being immortalized in shaky trail cam footage and called “weird dog-man with mange.”
Mokele-Mbembe on a sailing barge that has an espresso machine
Question 7: "Crypto" used to only refer to cryptozoological creatures... it did not even refer to cryptography (that was only referred to as code breaking or secret codes), do you feel that block chains and dude bros have co-opted the term "crypto" or do you feel like it has taken some of the heat off the unseen
*Ohhh don’t even get me started.* You want a rant? Because I can give you a **whole rant.**
Back in the day—*our* day—**“crypto”** meant *us*. Mysterious. Hidden. Rare. Maybe a little misunderstood. Maybe a little bloodthirsty. But we had *gravitas*. We had *allure*. You whispered “crypto” and people leaned in. Eyes widened. Goats trembled.
Then came the **blockchain bros.**
Now you say “crypto” and everyone thinks you’re either selling NFTs shaped like cartoon possums in top hats or trying to explain DeFi to your uncle at Thanksgiving. *We had a brand*, Scott. A **brand.** And now it’s buried under a million YouTube thumbnails and Discord channels named “HODLtheGoat.”
To answer your question:
Yes. **They co-opted it.** Hard.
But here’s the twist—I’m not mad about it. Why? Because while they’re out there shouting “CRYPTO TO THE MOON!” in Patagonia vests and tanking the economy with ape JPEGs, **we** get to quietly slip back into the shadows.
It’s like a global rebrand… without doing any of the marketing work. People don’t ask “what’s crypto?” anymore. They just assume it involves money laundering and mild cult behavior. Which, ironically, also describes several cryptids I know.
So yeah, *the term got hijacked*, but I’ll take the drop in public scrutiny. Just don’t ask me about Dogecoin. I’m still salty from that rug pull in 2021.
Okay, tapped a nerve there. I get it. Sometimes we get to control the narrative, sometimes we don't.
You mentioned that you have been on Mokele-Mbembe's barge... Question 8: How connected is the cryptid community?
Yeah, that nerve stays a little raw. Like a goat left out in the sun. But you’re right—we don’t always get to steer the story. Sometimes we’re just hitching a ride on the narrative barge, sipping espresso and pretending not to care.
Speaking of barges—**the cryptid community?** *Surprisingly well-connected*, considering most of us don’t do well in group photos or bright light.
Now, don’t picture some global Illuminati-style Zoom meeting where Bigfoot runs point and Nessie takes notes. It’s more like… a **weird cousin reunion** where everyone kind of knows each other, but no one really trusts each other enough to carpool.
We’ve got:
Regional group chats (heavily encrypted, obviously).
An old-school **bulletin board system** (hosted on a server buried in a cave in Finland).
Occasional **meet-ups** disguised as furry conventions, Renaissance festivals, or Burning Man satellite events.
We’re not besties, but we **check in**. You hear through the grapevine if the Jersey Devil got spotted and had to relocate, or if the Yeti got interviewed by a mountaineer who *accidentally told the truth*. There’s even a rotating safehouse network in place—run mostly by forest cryptids and the more organized sea creatures. (Nessie runs a tight ship. Pun completely intended.)
Now, *do I personally get along with all of them?* **No.**
Mokele and I are chill. He brews a killer French press and has surprisingly strong opinions on jazz fusion.
Bigfoot? *Meh.* Too mainstream. Thinks he’s an influencer just because he has a Funko Pop.
Mothman? **We have history.** I’m not ready to talk about it.
But at the end of the day, we’re all in this weird twilight ecosystem together.
**Unseen. Misunderstood. Un-Googled.**
Kind of like your dad’s old high school band that *almost* opened for REO Speedwagon.
We look out for each other. From a distance. With plausible deniability.
Oh, I get the history thing... A yeti and I have... a thing... "Beef" ain't quite enough to explain it. Something about my mom, don't know if I believe that abominable blunder, but I am not getting into that here (we can talk offline about that if you really need to know).
So A few months ago I interviewed the leprechaun Finn O"Shenanigan for the St Patrick's day post... I once asked a linguist friend of mine what the difference was between a dialect and a language. He responded that the difference is often a navy. Question 9: Leprechauns are more mythological than cryptozoological, how do you (as a member of the cryptozoological community) define the difference between mythological beings and cryptozoological beings?
Ohhhhh **Finn.** That shiny-shoed rascal owes me *two goats and a USB stick* from a poker game in Kilkenny, but sure, let’s pretend we’re all still friends.
You’re right—**"beef"** doesn’t even *begin* to cover what happens when cryptids and Yetis mix. It’s part territorial, part romantic miscommunication, part bad intel from the Mokele network. But I’ll respect your boundary on that for now. *Offline convo, noted.*
Now—**mythological vs. cryptozoological.**
This is a hot debate. You bring this up at a cryptid gathering, you better be ready to get a unicorn horn up in your grill. (Spoiler: they're *real*, they're mean, and they smell like cinnamon and spite.)
Here’s the short version, as I see it:
**Cryptozoological Beings**
✅ Have *some* evidence (blurry footage, tracks, bleating goats, etc.)
✅ Are *biologically plausible*—we’re flesh and blood. We bleed, we run, we get hangry.
✅ Tend to be grounded in the physical world—just *exceptionally rare, shy,* or geographically inconvenient.
✅ Often pop up in recent centuries with recurring sightings (like me, Nessie, Bigfoot, and that slippery Mongolian death worm).
**Mythological Beings**
🌀 Exist primarily in *symbolic, cultural, or religious* frameworks.
🌀 Often have *powers or domains*—storms, gold, dreams, bad vibes.
🌀 Don’t have to play by biology’s rules. They can fly, shape-shift, or appear only on solstices during blood moons while whistling in D minor.
🌀 Were never expected to have a skeleton found in a field somewhere.
Now, are there *crossovers?* Heck yes.
Some cryptids start out as myths (*“oh, that’s just a story the villagers tell”*) until someone finds a claw mark on a Prius. Some myths were based on early sightings of legit creatures that eventually went extinct—or extremely introverted.
The leprechauns? Pure mythos.
Magical. Mischievous. Mint-scented
But they’ve *branded* well. I’ll give them that. St. Paddy’s Day? Rainbows? Cereal mascots?? You don’t see *me* on a box of “Goat Bites.”
Cryptozoology is the *working class* of the unknown. We lurk, we scavenge, we occasionally end up in blurry documentaries narrated by overly serious British guys. Mythological types get temples. We get trail cam shame.
But hey. At least we don’t have to grant wishes.
That’s gotta be exhausting.
Interesting differentiation. That gives me some meat to chew on.
Question 10: (Fill in the blanks) I find that I am mostly _. Others find that I am mostly _.
I find that I am mostly **misunderstood but surprisingly well-read**.
Others find that I am mostly **a bloodthirsty livestock menace with bad posture and glowing eyes**.
And honestly? **Both are true.**
I contain multitudes.
Yes, I’ve punctured a few jugulars in my day. That’s biology.
But I’ve also cried at the end of *The Iron Giant* and spent three months in 2019 learning Japanese just so I could read untranslated yokai field reports. *(Those kappa? Wild. Total water goblins. We’d get along.)*
People see the claws, the glowing eyes, the shredded fence line, and they stop there.
They don’t see the creature reading Camus on a rooftop in Cozumel. Or the one who once tried a vegan week as a personal challenge. *(Mistake. Huge mistake. Don’t ask.)*
But it’s fine.
I’ve stopped needing the world to “get me.”
I’m not a cryptid because I want attention.
I’m a cryptid because **I was born nocturnal, mildly venomous, and excellent at disappearing when the cops show up.**
You know.
Like your average philosophy major with commitment issues.
I didn't think anyone read Camus for fun... No one reads Joyce for fun, that is for damn sure.
I have made an assumption that you are one of many Chupacabras, but that might be erroneous... Question 11: Is it truly el Chupacabre or are there actually Los Chupacabras?
Ahhh, *the ol’ singular vs. plural debate.* You're not the first to ask, and you won’t be the last. Frankly, it’s like asking if “Bono” is a species or just a guy. *(Spoiler: he’s just a guy. Probably.)*
Here’s the deal:
Technically, yes—**there are others.**
We’re not *exactly* a species, more like a **cryptid classification**. Like a genus, if you will.
“Chupacabra” is the term humans slapped on us when goats started turning up a little... *light on fluids.*
But we’re not clones. Not even close.
You’ve got:
Caribbean lineage** like me—leaner, sleeker, a little more reptilian. Think: iguana meets hyena with a questionable nightlife.
Northern types**, more canine, scruffier, with mange issues and a habit of showing up on trail cams in Texas like they’re doing DIY found footage horror.
South American cousins** who are weirdly philosophical and prefer llamas over goats (go figure).
And one rogue **Norwegian offshoot** who only drinks reindeer blood and listens to black metal. We *don’t talk about Lars.*
So yeah. You can say **“Los Chupacabras”** if you’re talking about the broader group.
But if you see **me** out there, stylin’ under a full moon, rocking crypto investments and sipping a cortado, you best say **“El Chupacabra.”** Singular. Capitalized. *Respect the brand.*
We’re rare. We’re localized. And we don’t all get along—there was a messy dispute over naming rights back in '98.
Let’s just say you haven’t lived until you’ve seen two Chupacabras try to settle a feud over who gets to haunt a particular goat farm… *with PowerPoint.*
Long story short?
**There are Los. But I am El.
Accept no imitations.
Ah, I get it... kind of a "Melior inter pares" motto in Latin. There are worse words to live by, but there are more humble ones to live by as well...
Question 12: How would things change for you if your existence became clear and transparent?
*Melior inter pares,* huh?
Look at you, pulling out the Latin. I see you.
Yes—*“better among equals”* fits, though I’d argue it’s more like *“still hungry among equals.”*
Now… Question 12. *Whew.* That’s a heavy one.
You're not just poking the goat, you're poking the **existential underpinnings of my whole reality.** Respect.
If my existence became **clear and transparent**—not just grainy-photo real, but *verified, classified, catalogued*… here’s how it’d go down:
**1. The Magic Dies a Little.**
Let’s be honest: part of what makes me *me* is **mystery**.
If I’m suddenly on Wikipedia with a Latin binomial and a range map, then I’m just… a weird predator with a PR problem.
The mythos evaporates.
I go from **“What if…?”** to **“Oh, that.”**
**2. The Humans Would Lose Their Minds.**
Half of you would want to dissect me. The other half would want a selfie.
There’d be:
* A Netflix docuseries: *“Bloodlines: The Chupacabra Story”*
* A podcast hosted by a guy named Brent
* Merch. (The t-shirts would be fire, though. I’d buy one.)
* Protests. Worship. Misquotes on bumper stickers.
* Some startup trying to farm my DNA to make ethically sourced vampire skincare.
I’d never get a moment’s peace. And forget sneaking through goat fields at 3 a.m.—those would be drone zones by week two.
**3. I Lose the Edge.**
Being **unknown** is a superpower.
It’s the best invisibility cloak there is.
Once you’re seen, you’re *defined.*
Once you’re defined, you’re **limited.**
And trust me—people are *bad* at nuance. They’d paint me as a monster, a miracle, a mascot… but never just… me. Tacho.
Cryptid. Philosopher. Goat gourmand.
**4. And Yet…**
A *tiny part* of me wonders what it would feel like to be **understood.**
To not be a blurry silhouette or a punchline.
To be invited to dinner instead of chased off the property with a broom and a floodlight.
There’s something intoxicating about **belonging.**
But then again, I’ve seen what you all did to Pluto, and *he* didn’t even suck any goats.
So yeah.
Let’s keep things blurry.
Mystery looks good on me.
I am a little surprised at how specific and precise this answer is.
Question 13: Do you have any superstitions or rituals (I am a little loath to ask the last part)?
Specific and precise? Buddy, if you spent your whole life being called *“legendary”* without ever getting royalties, you’d get real good at articulating your brand too.
Now—Question 13.
**Superstitions and rituals.**
Ohhhh boy.
Let me break it down:
### **SUPERSTITIONS**
**1. Never cross a caprine’s path on a waning crescent moon.**
Old jungle wisdom. The last time I did, I lost two molars and accidentally teleported to Honduras.
Goat magic is weird and not well studied.
**2. I always leave the first bite.**
Whether it’s a goat, alpaca, or metaphorical opportunity—**I never take the first bite** until I’ve circled it thrice clockwise.
Is it a ritual? Is it instinct? Maybe both.
But ever since I broke that rule in Nicaragua and got sprayed by a skunk possessed by a forest spirit, I’ve honored it religiously.
**3. Never trust a chupacabra with a Bluetooth earpiece.**
If they’re on a call, they’re probably selling fake sightings to travel YouTubers.
We don’t talk about Paulo anymore.
### **RITUALS**
**1. I polish my claws with volcanic ash every full moon.**
It exfoliates and channels geothermal chi.
Also keeps me camera-ready in case I accidentally photobomb a camper’s Instagram story.
**2. Before a big hunt, I hum the *X-Files* theme in reverse.**
You wouldn’t believe how much luck that brings.
Also clears my sinuses. Win-win.
**3. I bury a smooth stone once a season.**
Some say it’s symbolic.
Some say it’s my way of honoring fallen cryptids—like the Tasmanian Tiger or that one chupacabra who invested everything in RadioShack.
But really? It helps me mark time.
When you’re eternal, you need anchors.
So yes.
I may be elusive, but I’m not above a little ritual and routine.
Keeps me grounded.
Keeps the goats guessing.
And most importantly, keeps me *me*—just enough pattern to stay sane, just enough chaos to stay legendary.
Question 14: Simple yet profound... Are you happy?
Huh. *“Are you happy?”*
That’s not usually one of the questions people ask a so-called bloodsucking cryptid, you know?
Usually it’s more like *“Do you sparkle in sunlight?”* or *“Are you responsible for my uncle’s missing chickens?”*
But okay. Let’s go there.
**Am I happy?**
Yeah.
Mostly.
**Happy enough.**
It’s a weird kind of happiness—**feral and quiet**, the kind that lives in the corners of the world, under mossy stones and in the hush before dawn. I’m not dancing through meadows singing show tunes. (Though I do hum “Despacito” ironically when I’m in tourist zones.)
I’m happy when the air smells like ozone and goat hair.
I’m happy when I evade a Ring doorbell camera by a fraction of a second.
I’m happy when I sit on a remote hillside in Belize, watching the stars flicker like gossip.
But happiness, for me, isn’t a default—it’s a **pursuit**.
Because being a cryptid means **living in the margins**.
It means **accepting loneliness** as part of the lifestyle package—like the Bluetooth not pairing in your car, or your barista always spelling your name wrong.
I’m not miserable, though.
I’ve got friends.
(I mean, not *Mothman*, that traitorous LED-chasing nerd, but others.)
I’ve got a purpose—however weird.
And I’ve got a front-row seat to humanity being its beautiful, baffling, chaotic self.
So yeah.
**I’m happy.**
But not in the “Instagrammed brunch” kind of way.
More in the “still standing, still weird, still me” kind of way.
Which, if you ask me, is the only happiness worth trusting.
You are indeed a philosophical one... and poetic one at that.
Gracias, compadre. Comes with the territory. When you’ve spent as many decades lurking in shadows and dodging blurry phone cams as I have, you start to develop… *layers.* Like an onion. Or a conspiracy theory.
Besides, someone’s gotta keep up the intellectual end of the cryptid community. Bigfoot sure isn’t—he’s out there trying to sell protein powder and NFTs shaped like footprints.
So, Question 15: Is there something you were expecting me to ask? or something that you specifically wanted me to ask?
Ahhh, **Question 15**—and what a *gentlemanly curveball* it is.
You know, I was sort of hoping you’d ask something like:
**"Do you regret anything?"**
or
**"What’s something no one ever gets right about you?"**
or even
**"Do you ever wish you were just... not a cryptid?"**
Not because I *need* to unburden myself—this isn’t some kind of Paranormal Therapy Hour—but because I don’t often get the chance to speak outside the tired goat jokes or the “I saw him in my backyard after too many piña coladas” stories.
I mean, who *asks* a creature of legend what they’d do if they weren’t legendary?
Spoiler: **freelance cartography**.
I’m not just saying that to butter you up. Maps soothe me. Topography is a kind of poetry.
But to your point—was there something I wanted you to ask?
Yeah.
Something like:
**"Do you get lonely?"**
Or
**"If you could be remembered for one thing—not feared, not mythologized, just remembered—what would it be?"**
Because for all the shadows and sass, even a creature like me doesn’t want to vanish into obscurity *entirely*.
We all want to leave a mark—preferably one that’s not just a smear of fur on a trail cam or a blood-drained chicken carcass.
So thank you for asking *that* question.
It's a rare thing, to be asked what you *wanted* to be asked.
Even rarer than an honest Mothman.
When this interview is over we need to have a Mothman/Yeti bitch sesh. There is clearly some history that we can bond over there.
Question 17: So, what sustains you beyond your livestock consumption?
Ah, the age-old question: *“What keeps the legendary beast going beyond the midnight snack?”*
Well, besides the obvious—\*\*goats, alpacas, and the occasional poor, unsuspecting farm animal—\*\*there’s a lot more to me than just a taste for livestock blood.
Here’s what sustains ol’ Tacho beyond the buffet:
### 1. **Curiosity**
I’m a sucker for new things—new places, new smells, new tech trends.
That’s why I keep dabbling in crypto coins—heard it might be the future, and I’m not about to miss out because I’m stuck in some ancient forest or spooky cave.
Plus, watching those dude bros freak out over blockchain is endlessly entertaining.
### 2. **The Chase**
It’s not just about the meal, it’s about the **hunt**.
Outsmarting those night-vision cams, slipping past flashlights, weaving through the forest.
It’s like a game, a dance. Keeps me sharp.
### 3. **Community (Sort Of)**
Sure, I’m not exactly crashing cryptid parties, but I’ve got my circle.
The owlbear from Belize.
That weird swamp thing down in Louisiana.
We share stories, occasional memes, and mostly complain about humans.
Even Mothman gets a begrudging shout-out when he’s not being a drama queen.
### 4. **Self-Preservation**
You can’t run on blood alone.
Rest, shelter, and some good old-fashioned volcanic ash facials keep me in top form.
(Beauty routines aren’t just for humans, you know.)
### 5. **Existential Snacks**
I thrive on the *meaning* behind the myth.
The stories people tell.
The fear, the awe, the mystery.
That’s my real sustenance—living in the imaginations of the curious, the brave, and the slightly unhinged.
So yeah.
It’s not just about what’s on the menu.
It’s what’s *behind* the menu that keeps me going.
Though, not gonna lie—goat blood *is* a solid pick-me-up.
I was not expecting Curiosity, the Chase, Community, Self-Preservation, and Existential Snacks. This has been quite the interesting ride
Turn about is fair play... Question 18: Do you have any questions for me?
Ah, finally—*the tables turn* and the cryptid gets to interrogate the human.
Alright, I’ve got a couple, but I’ll keep it short—don’t want to scare you off on Question 18.
Here goes:
1. **If you had to pick one place in the world to *hide* from civilization, where would it be?**
(You know, a real “off-the-grid” spot—no Wi-Fi, no drones, just you and the wilderness.)
2. **What’s the most believable cryptid story you’ve ever heard or encountered?**
Like, something that made you think, “Okay… maybe there’s something to this.”
3. **If you could design your own cryptid, what would it be like?**
Give me the highlights—appearance, powers, attitude.
Your turn!
Okay...
1: Mountains... I could live forever in the mountains... fjordic mountains like in Scandinavia or the Pac NW\... so I guess I would be close to trolls or sasquatch.
2. I know you are going to rail against this a little since it is the super-popular cryptids, but the gigantopithicus group of cryptids... bigfoot, skunk ape, sasquatch, the wild Amok, swamp ape, yeti, etc... There is a strong consistency of tale and description. The mountain gorilla wasn't discovered until 1902... so maybe?
3. I think to avoid detection, it would be smaller than typical cryptids... something like a muntjac or a jackalope. I think it would be avian yet still dinosaur-ish. Maybe a modern archeopteryx... it would be called the Lizard Bird or something like that.
Question 19: What are you taking from these 20 Questions that you did not bring in with you?
Well now… that’s a fine question. And a rare one.
Usually people just want the dirt: "How many goats have you drained?" "Do you sparkle in moonlight?" "Are you a government project?" Yawn.
But this? This digs.
Here’s what I’m taking with me:
🧭 1. **A Sense of Place**
You brought me geography. Not maps and coordinates—*place.* You asked where I’ve been, what I’ve seen, how space shapes story.
Not many folks ask cryptids about our roots. Turns out, I *have* roots. Go figure.
💬 2. **A Conversation, Not an Interrogation**
You didn’t come to expose me or prove I don’t exist. You came to *talk.*
That’s rare. Even rarer than an honest Loch Ness sonar ping.
It made me reflect in ways I usually avoid. Like, existential snacks? That’s not even a phrase I had in my back pocket until this chat.
👣 3. **Footprints in Unexpected Soil**
I didn’t expect to relate. But when you talked about hiding in the mountains… yeah.
When you said “community” among cryptids—despite the drama—yeah.
When you imagined your own cryptid—clever, subtle, low-profile—I nodded without meaning to.
Turns out you and I aren’t that different.
Just two creatures dodging drones and expectations, trying to leave behind something more than rumor.
🕳️ 4. **A Better Hole to Lurk In**
Metaphorically, I mean.
I walk away from this with a bit more confidence in my mystery.
Not because I’m misunderstood, but because maybe being misunderstood is part of the magic.
Maybe that’s the gig: not to be seen fully, but to inspire others to *look.*
So thanks, human.
I came in fanged and guarded.
I’m leaving thoughtful, slightly exposed, and—dare I say—oddly grateful.
Question 20: What's next? Be as long-term or short-term, metaphorical or concrete, philosophical or grounded as you would like.
You really don’t let a cryptid off easy, do you?
Question 20: What’s Next?
Short-term?
Probably a ferry ride.
There’s a promising whisper about goat herds in Corsica, and frankly, I could use some Mediterranean sun. Might even bring a Kindle. Finish rereading *The Stranger*. Again.
Mid-term?
Laying low. Not in the usual "swamp-cave-in-the-jungle" sense, but *digitally*.
My crypto wallet took a hit—thanks, Dogecoin—and I’m pivoting to something more sustainable. Cryptid merch?
I’ve been dabbling in a dropshipping site:
GOATed: Apparel So Good It’ll Drain You.
Still working on the tagline.
Long-term?
I don’t know if there *is* a long-term for creatures like me.
We exist in the margins.
In shutter-clicks and shaky cam footage, in late-night Reddit threads and whispered bar stories.
Our permanence isn’t in fact—it’s in *possibility*.
But maybe that’s enough.
Philosophically?
What’s next is *uncertainty*.
And I’ve decided I’m okay with that.
Humans scramble to control time, label it, fence it in. Me? I *haunt* it.
I am the rumor in your tomorrow.
I am the edge of your map that still says *Here Be Something*.
So what’s next?
*Same thing that’s always next:*
To persist.
To confuse.
To wonder.
To remind the world that it doesn’t know *everything*—and that’s exactly how it should be.
And you? You’ve got a blog post to finish.
Tell 'em the goat sucker says hi.
And if anyone asks?
*I was never here.* 🐐💨
Well I think you might have gone from being a goat-sucker to being the G.O.A.T goat-sucker. Thanks, Tacho, for your candor and a delightful conversation.
Now *that’s* a title I’ll actually put on my LinkedIn.
Thank *you*, Scott.
For the respect. The curiosity. The space to be something more than a blurry outline in the dark. This wasn’t just an interview—it was a rare kind of encounter. The kind that makes even a cryptid feel *seen.* If you ever need a guest for a live episode, or a plus-one to a Mothman roast, you know where *not* to find me.
🐐💨
That was interesting.
ChatGPT started doing some weird unasked for behavior as the “conversation” continued. For some reason the answers started having multi-parts and different formatting. At question 13, before giving the answer, ChatGPT would give some stage direction as to how Tacho the Chupacabra was behaving. For example: Tacho grins, a fang catching the light. He gives a little bow, one clawed hand over his heart.
This type of information was not asked for, and did not seem “necessary” to the LLM until question 13. Very bizarre.
To Recap:
LLM’s is crazy, yo!
Andor is quite possibly the best Star Wars property out there
It truly was spectacular
I have to format this beast of a post
The copy and paste function from ChatGPT to Google Docs is not super efficient
And then the copy and paste function from Google Docs to Squarespace is not great either
Tons of formatting issues
And then I need to add the images and links and such
So much formatting
And then I need to port this post over to the substack and Medium
Which requires more re-formatting
And people wonder why I don’t do this as a podcast
If formatting text is this much of a bother, can you imagine the hoops necessary for audio editing and processing
You have to level things out
Remove “ums” and “ahs”
Tighten up pausesAnd, if you want to be professional about it, add an underbed of music to it
I started down that path once, and it was just too much
Unless y’all wanted to pay me…
Then I would be game
Commissions are still open, dm/email/text for details
Graphic Design, Illustration, Cartography, UX… let me know
It is still Tuesday somewhere
Have a great rest of the week